


Greatest Treasure

by LiteratureOrgasm



Category: Road to El Dorado (2000)
Genre: Angst, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:56:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiteratureOrgasm/pseuds/LiteratureOrgasm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've finally made it back to Spain and they plan on taking advantage of every sucker they can, but when tragedy befalls the duo... Will they be able to survive it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Greatest Treasure

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction and is very much un-beta'd. All mistakes can be laid at my feet. I do not own Road to El Dorado or anything associated with it.

**Chapter One:** **Back to Spain!**

 

 

**You'd think they would have learned....**

 

 

“Seven!” The cry is one of joy that manages to break above the ruckus of the lookers-on, the bouncy melody of the mandolin accompanying the lanky brunette's victory dance. As he bends to grab his winnings, his opponent collapsed and groaning about his wife killing him, a loud voice rings out.

 

“Halt! Street gambling is forbidden under-” The words fade out as the winner runs with only about half of his coins, too intent on making sure he doesn't forget his loaded dice to grab it all. His blond companion is hot on his heels as they dart from the pursuing city guard, the duo so used to dodging the authorities that he has lost the two in a matter of minutes.

 

After a few minutes of hiding behind a rather large stack of empty crates, the blond peeks out around the corner to make sure the coast is clear. When he confirms that it is, he turns to his partner-in-crime while clutching his precious mandolin to his chest, and gives the brunette a dazzlingly bright grin that makes his green eyes light up.

 

“That was _**fun**_ , Tulio~”

 

“Fun? Are you out of your mind? I _**dropped**_ half the take, Miguel! How is that fun?” Tulio shoots the ever cheery Miguel a quelling glare as he pockets the _pesetas_ he had managed to hold onto, but there is truly no dampening the blond's exuberance as he bounces around like an excited puppy.

 

“But, Tulio! We got _some_ money, didn't we? Plus... We got to get chased! I _love_ chases~” He practically crows, to which Tulio darts forward to cover his mouth with a hand, giving him a stern look meant to convey the command 'be quiet' as he looks around to make sure they hadn't been heard. After several moments, mostly due to his friend squirming as if he was going to burst from being silent for more than three seconds, Tulio releases him with an exasperated sigh.

 

“Come on, Miguel. We'd better lie low for a day or two before we try to go out again,” were the words that drifted back as the tired man walked away from his spritely buddy. Miguel is quick to follow behind him, humming under his breath while his deft fingers pluck lightly at the strings of his instrument as if he couldn't help it.

 

Tulio had learned to push the incessant noises that his friend made into the back of his mind long ago. Which was great because he needed to concentrate on figuring out how long he could stretch his meager earnings out before they would need to try and head out to find a way to... Acquire more. The sun is setting as the two come upon their current dwelling: a barely put together hut made from rejected wood pieces and sloppily masoned stone forced together. It was home, though, the first the two had stayed at for more than a few months, anyways.

 

The door protests on hinges that consisted more of rust than metal as Tulio opens it, holding it open for Miguel to dip in under his arm inside. He allows for the door to slam closed on its own, the wood it is made of fashioned in the way one would lash a makeshift raft together; this made for an ill-fit that left slight gaps at both the bottom and the top of the doorway.

 

Miguel had already took it upon himself to light a few candles to light the room better than the few dying rays of the sun that were managing to make their way through the single tiny window at the side of their shack. The place had enough room for two bedrolls and a small table with two chairs. On that table sat the last of their food: a couple small loaves of bread wrapped to keep it from going stale and a few apples. Those apples are snatched by the shorter of the two, said man bounding over to stick his arm out the window with an apple in hand.

 

“Altivoooo~ Who's a good horsey~?” A nicker and snort can be heard just before the crunching of the apple, Tulio rubbing a hand over his face as he drops down onto one of the wooden chairs tiredly. They had decided to keep Altivo when they had come back to Spain, the warhorse practically a part of their family after everything the four – no - the three of them now... Had gone through. He allows himself to drift a bit as Miguel coos in that annoying manner people use for animals and babies.

 

**

_He'd figured they would all be a family from now on. A ragtag group of different people – and a horse – that had found a common destiny. Adventure. Which was how it had been, at first. They had all made it back to Spain in one piece: Tulio, Miguel, Chel and Altivo. He can recall her dark eyes and sly smile. The way she had made Miguel laugh and how she had made Tulio himself smile almost as much as Miguel could. She had learned quickly, their new con partner, and they couldn't have been prouder. She used her exotic beauty and intelligence like weapons. Dazzling and bamboozling people left and right. Nearly a year into their reign of scams and fun all over Spain had passed with the future looking bright._

 

_Then the arguments had started. Little ones at first. A disagreement how something should be done. A sarcastic remark about a particular point in a plan that Tulio had been quite proud of. He had tried to compromise by allowing Chel to decide on courses of action a good half of the time, but it had just gone downhill from there._

 

 _The two finally came to the conclusion that they had become attached to each other for all the wrong reasons. Chel, for the opportunity to escape from a life that she had come to despise for reasons she had never shared with her companions. Tulio, because of her exotic beauty that was pretty much the embodiment of all that was El Dorado. It also hadn't hurt that she possessed a sharp intelligence and wit that could give him a run for his_ pesetas _any day. That was his downfall. That her charm and propensity for deviousness rivaled his own. They had been far too alike and that had led to stubbornness and the butting of heads more often than not._

 

_So... They had parted company with the promise to meet in Seville, Spain every few years or at least have a message left in one of their secret spots. Just to make sure everyone was fine. That had been four months ago and Tulio still felt an ache in his chest... Not from missing her, but from guilt at being relieved when she departed._

**

“ **TULIO**!”

 

“Gah! W-what? WHAT, Miguel?” Those blue eyes lift to clash with concerned green, lips flattening into an irritated line; flat and unyielding.

 

“Well. I asked if you wanted to feed Altivo an apple, but when you didn't respond, I just started asking for things and taking your silence as agreement~” A mischievous and unholy light makes those green eyes practically sparkle. “Should we name our new puppy Spot or perhaps... Perhaps Altivo the Second, what d'ya think?”

 

Tulio sputters and stands to glare down at the other after a moment of stunned, blank silence. “We can barely feed Altivo! What makes you think we can affo--” The words cut off as he snaps his mouth shut, the merry laughter currently bending his best friend over in half making him realize Miguel had been joking. A reluctant laugh falls from his lips and he shakes his head, hand rubbing the back of his neck for a few seconds before he finds himself sitting at their small table once again.

 

“You know.. One of these days you are going to give me a heartattack, Miguel,” his voice is tinged with amusement despite his words, “but at least I would go out having a good time, right?” A series of pops echo in their small hut as Tulio stretches, back arching and the thin man groaning.

 

“Probably~!” Exclaims the still chuckling blond, fingers lifting to wipe the moisture from his eyes while he gifts his often surly friend another of his trademark playful grins. “Hey! How about we celebrate our daring escape, 'Lio?” With those words, he is off to the back of the room, coming back with a large bottle of _pulque_ * in his hand and both brows raised expectantly.

 

Tulio looks at the milky alcohol, then to the hopeful expression on his best buddy's face and sighs, unable to deny him. “Yeah. Yeah, alright.” He shakes his head at the enthusiastic 'whoop' that he gets in answer to his agreement and bends to put their _pesetas_ in a bag behind a loose board in the corner. After straightening, he shoots Miguel a lopsided smirk and lifts a single brow.

 

“Two _pesetas_ say I can out drink ya, blondie.”

 

“You're on!”

 

~*~

 

It'd had been hours since their daring escape from the city guard to their home. _Home_. Such a great word even if where they lived wasn't a palace. Because.. Well... Because he is here. Eyes the color of fresh spring grass lift to watch as his companion once again tips his glass back to throw back yet another two fingers of _pulque_.

 

“C'mon, Mi... Mi... _you._ Don't try to back out... N-now...” The brunette sways in his seat slightly, vest long gone and hair that is normally contained in a messy que loose around his alcohol relaxed face. Miguel offers him a soft grin, unable to help the tenderness that warms his eyes as he looks at Tulio.

 

_He's sitting so close. So very close._

 

Miguel shakes his head to dispell such thoughts. This was Tulio. His best friend. His partner. _His everything._ He gulps down his own portion of _pulque,_ wincing just a tad at the slightly sour taste of the strong drink and holding out his glass for more. Liquid splashes over his fingers, his partner's hands shaky as he squints to try and pour them both more. A chuckle falls from his lips and his fingers grip Tulio's wrist to steady his hand, the action gaining him a startled look followed by a decidedly tipsy looking grin.

 

“Mi... h-hey. Don't you.. Don't you think you've won,” the slurring of his words say otherwise, but Miguel decides not to point that out, “you.. you must have dumped yours out or-or somethin'...” He trails off and slumps a bit, eyes closing.

 

Miguel just barely has time to catch the almost empty bottle as it slips from his now sleeping friend's limp grasp. Golden locks fall from their place tucked behind his ears as he shakes his head with a fond little laugh. The weight of his taller partner makes him grunt lightly as he picks him up, Miguel slowly carrying him over to his bedroll to gently lie him down. He pulls the blanket up and tucks it around Tulio, then continues to kneel by him. Miguel can't seem to help himself when he reaches out to lovingly smooth several strands of dark hair off of Tulio's forehead, fingertips ghosting along his jawline a moment later. He is startled as a drop of moisture hits his hand and looks up at the window in confusion.

 

_It wasn't raining outside, so how could it possibly be leaking through the roof?_

 

It takes a moment, but then he realizes and lifts a hand to wipe at his cheek with an empty laugh. Normally, the blond is like a ray of sunshine. All bright smiles and laughter, but as he gazes down at his dark counterpart... There is nothing but an agony so starkly displayed on his face that it is painful to gaze upon. Only in these moments, when he couldn't be seen did he allow this to show. He cups Tulio's face again, giving the sleeping man a tremulous smile a moment before he bends to brush their lips together. He backs off to his own bedroll quickly as that chaste kiss illicites a sleepy mumble. The cover is scratchy as he pulls it up around himself, Tulio's sleep relaxed face the last thing he sees as he drifts to sleep.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> *Pulque: A milk colored, semi-viscous alcohol made from fermented agave plant sap. It has a slightly sour, yeasty taste.


End file.
